


Let Me In

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood and Gore, Codependency, Ephebophilia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Non-Explicit Sex, Serious Power Imbalance, Vampires, the terrible "is he really underage if he's unable to get older?" trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Three years ago, Eggsy Unwin had found Harry Hart sitting on a bench across from a secondary school’s sports fields and drinking a cup of black coffee on a Friday afternoon.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>A group of Year 11 boys were playing football, too taken up in their game to notice that had an audience. Harry’s eyes followed them closely, but his breathing remained steady, the faintest trace of a smile curling his lips. A newspaper, open to the local news section, sat on his lap, a pretension of a normal activity.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Eggsy knew immediately.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Men like that, no matter how carefully they manicured their appearances and buried their desires, could not truly hide.</i>
</p><p>Fill for the following prompt from the Dark Kingsman Block Party: Eggsy is what, in modern ideals, amounts to an “underage” vampire. He makes a habit of feeding on older men who think he’s easy prey. Harry almost fits the bill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me In

The boy and his guardian arrived in the middle of day, during a thunderstorm. The rain rolled down the windows of King’s office slowly and obscured the normally beautiful view of the school grounds, which should have been quite green if not for the unseasonable rain they’d been having.

“It’s quite late in the term, you know.” Chester put on his poshest accent and sits a little straighter in his desk chair. Mr. Hart, as the guardian introduced himself, reeked of old money, and Chester was determined to wring him for every pound possible. “There will have to be an additional fee levied, to cover the rush expenses.”

Hart’s mouth curved downward slightly. “Of course. I am willing to pay whatever is necessary.”

Chester’s grin spread further. “Then I am delighted to welcome your boy to Pendleton, Mr. Hart.”

“Did you hear that, Gary?” Hart said, turning to the teenage boy who was currently leaning against the doorjamb, clearly uncomfortable. The boy just nodded. “He’s very quiet around strangers, sorry,” apologised Hart. A scowl started to form on his brow. “Come along now, Gary, inside.” The boy nimbly stepped inside the office, taking the seat beside his guardian.

“Understandable.” For the amount Mr. Hart was prepared to pay, Chester would gladly tolerate worse than a boy who refused to talk. “Shall I have my secretary help you get a schedule put together for young Master Hart?”

“That would be delightful, Mr. King.”

* * *

There is a seat in Mr. Prideaux’s maths classroom that is intentionally always left empty—the second-to-the-front seat in the third row. Depending on which boy you asked, the story as to why this was would vary, but it always had something to do with a boy who died sitting there, and as a result sitting there would curse you.

When the new boy chose that seat to sit in, Ryan whispered to him that he should move if he didn’t want some nasty luck. His mate Jamal had sat there one time last year and then broke his arm in two places the very same day.

But the boy only laughed and introduced himself as Eggsy, who was unafraid of any ghost stories.

* * *

Three years ago, Eggsy Unwin had found Harry Hart sitting on a bench across from a secondary school’s sports fields and drinking a cup of black coffee on a Friday afternoon.

A group of Year 11 boys were playing football, too taken up in their game to notice that had an audience. Harry’s eyes followed them closely, but his breathing remained steady, the faintest trace of a smile curling his lips. A newspaper, open to the local news section, sat on his lap, a pretension of a normal activity.

Eggsy knew immediately.

Men like that, no matter how carefully they manicured their appearances and buried their desires, could not truly hide. Harry was certainly amongst the better Eggsy had seen at hiding it, but Eggsy has spent sixty-five years identifying men just like Harry.

Eggsy sauntered over to Harry with a lazy smirk on his face. “’Aving a good time watchin’ them play, guv?”

Harry looked up at Eggsy, flustered for a moment, before his expression smoothed out. “I used to play football when I was in secondary. Nostalgic for a time when my knees didn’t ache quite so much, I suppose.” There was something in the steadiness of his voice and his perfectly-held polite smile that momentarily confused Eggsy. He had encountered very few men in his days who were such capable liars, especially when they had been caught peeping like lechers. “Shouldn’t you be in classes, young man?” Harry picked up the newspaper in his lap and held it in front of him, as though he were actually about to read it.

“Ain’t got no classes.”

Harry peeked over the top rim of his glasses at Eggsy dubiously. “I doubt that.”

Eggsy grinned. “I ain’t lying, guv. Just lookin’ for some fun.”

A moment of darkness flickered across Harry’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, before Eggsy could even interpret it. “So run along to your mates, then. I assure you I’m not the sort of company you want to keep.”

But Eggsy knew he was, even if Harry was one of the ones who kept their desire locked away so deep it was more often than not forgotten. He had seen how Harry’s eyes had rolled down his body when he’d spotted Eggsy leaning against the chain link fence of the football field. “Ain’t got no mates. An’ y’ are the exact company I wanna keep,” said Eggsy, pitching his voice down lower, smoother.

“I am not interested.” His voice was flat, and there went another flicker of that darkness over Harry’s face. It was cold and cruel.

Eggsy had picked well. “Yea y’ are, bruv. Look at y’.” Eggsy sat down on the bench now, thigh touching Harry’s. “Me name’s Eggsy,” he murmured in Harry’s ear. “It’s fine if y’ want me. ‘Ve done it before.” Just the barest hints of a thrall—not enough to coerce Harry, just enough to push him over his own mental blocks.

Harry shivered. “Harry. Harry Hart.”

Eggsy smiled. “You an’ me, we’re gonna have so much fun, guv.”

* * *

Like all of the men before him, Harry was greedy, touching whatever part of Eggsy he can, eyes shining when they touch their own forbidden fruit. There was a certain violence to it, which is not common but not unknown to Eggsy, though Eggsy had yet to have someone restrain it with him. For most of the men, they perceive this as a once-in-a-lifetime chance and seize it as such. They do not bother to hold back from their own sadistic urges.

Harry smelled sweet, once his aftershave and cologne had been sweated away, his suit discarded in a neatly folded pile on Eggsy’s nightstand. Like all of the men before him, Harry did not ask why a boy clearly no older than sixteen lived alone in a flat. He was too engrossed in Eggsy to notice what might have been the signs that saved his life.

Just as well. The heady, rapid beating of Harry’s heart echoed in Eggsy’s ear, now that they were alone in the quiet. Eggsy was suddenly struck with how very hungry he was.

He did not hesitate when Harry leaned in from between his parted thighs to kiss him, an oddly sweet gesture, something none of the men before Harry had tried to do. Eggsy snapped up, teeth prepared to lock into Harry’s neck. The blood that poured was hot, spilling over Eggsy’s mouth and down Harry’s neck.

Harry groaned and gurgled, shoving weakly at Eggsy. If Eggsy had not been what he was, Harry might actually have managed to dislodge him. The man was surprisingly strong.

Eggsy waited until Harry went limp and stopped fighting, unconscious, but did not go further. He has an itching curiosity for what Harry might do. There was something different about this one. He was no less desperate than any of the men ever were, when it came down to it, but he had restraint. It was not often Eggsy had to put someone even in a mild thrall to lure them back, and even rarer when he found someone who only took as much as Eggsy offered.

Eggsy looked at Harry and smiled. Thoughtfully, he pressed his hand against the neck wound. If he wanted to keep this one, he’d have to keep him alive.

* * *

Two years and eleven months ago, Harry Hart retired from Kingsman. He was not quite at the age for mandatory retirement from the field, and it was frankly unexpected by all of his colleagues. But he turned over all his Kingsman-issued items, sold all of his non-essential possessions from his house, and left for Scotland with only two trunks in tow.

_What’s in this for me? Don’t waste our time by saying you won’t kill me. I’ve no fear of death._

_Ain’t it obvious, old man? I’m sixteen. Been sixteen since 1947. Never gonna get a day older than that. And y’ killed before, I know. Ain’t stupid. Wouldn’t be nothin’ new to y’._

Harry’s throat had clicked as he swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry at the implications Eggsy had made. Eggsy had laughed, his teeth and mouth still smeared red.

* * *

“You’re gonna kill Mr. Prideaux for me,” Eggsy declared, sprawling out on the sofa in their new flat, kicking off his uniform loafers.

“We’ve just settled in, Eggsy.” Harry’s expression pinched and he set his book down on his lap. “I cannot keep moving to a completely new place every two months. People _will_ get suspicious.”

Eggsy rolled over, pouting exaggeratedly. “Please, Harry. He gives me bad marks for no reason.”

“You are incorrigible. I hardly doubt there’s no reason for them. I’m not killing your maths professor for you just because he gave you some bad marks.”

The joking pout is gone. “Yea, but y’ ain’t the one in charge here, guv.”

Harry dropped his eyes back to his book. “I see.”

“So you’re gonna kill Mr. Prideaux for me, or y’ ain’t gonna get laid for a month, yea?” Eggsy shoved the book from Harry’s hands and straddled his lap instead, playful. A tinge of relief coloured Harry’s expression. “’M bloody starving, Harry, if y’ don’t want me hunting on my own, y’ gotta keep me fed. Ryan told me I _smelled_ today. I can’t be pretendin’ I’m normal if I got people telling me I smell like rot because I’m hungry.”

“I’ve seen how you hunt, dear boy. It’s absolutely distasteful. You waste far more than necessary,” Harry sighed, pressing a doting kiss to his boy’s temple.

“So you’ll kill Mr. Prideaux?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

Eggsy smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired heavily by "Let the Right One In," which is the inspiration from the title. I'm very passionate about LTROI and the social commentary it carries with it and I have way, way too many index cards full of notes analyzing it, so when I saw this, it was like it was meant to be. This is probably way more pretentious and decidedly not-sexual/not-super-gory, but I've never been prone to writing the former and wasn't feeling writing the latter with this prompt in mind, since the horror comes more from the relationship than anything else.
> 
> Anyway, here are the usual links:  
> [the prompt](http://dark-kingsman-submissions.tumblr.com/post/141003863560/prompt-vampire-eggsy-feeds-on-older-men-implied) | [my tumblr](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com)


End file.
